Scream
by Sandolious
Summary: Sequel to Whisper. Fourth in the Words Arc. Truths are told and Harry is left hurting again. Past HP/SS, Current SS/HG, Current HG/RW


Title: Scream

Author: Sandolious

Contact:

Ranting: PG - 13

Pairings: Past HP/SS; Current SS/HG; Current HG/RW; Slight Friendship-ish HP/DM; Other pairings include NL/LL

Genre: Angst; Drama.

Warnings: Gen, Mentions of Slash, Hetero, Mild Emotional Harry Torture, Language, Mentions of Violence

Type: One-shot

Arc: Words; Story # 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything in association with the Harry Potter series.

Summery: Sequel to Whisper. Boxing Day hunts for an Ex-Lover's soul.

Words: 2823 (21 Feb 2005)

AN: Thank you to all who have reviewed and are thoroughly enjoying this arc/series.

-=-

Scream

Boxing Day brought thick fog heavy with moisture, obsidian clouds casting the land in shadow. The atmosphere was stifling and bleak. So different from the previous day. The white snow turned ash grey in the lightless environment. Bitter wind howled against the windows, rattling the hinges with force, screaming for entrance. With each passing hour the wind picked up speed, and battered the mansion with fierce resolve.

Harry shivered in his bed, nightmares plaguing his mind. Their grasp tight and unforgiving, devouring his strength for their use. The intensity grew with each moment, the nightmare hacking through his mind, opening every healed wound and scarred over area in passing. Creating a trail of festering suffering to seep into the nightmares. Fueling their grasp on the mind.

His head tossed from side to side, mumbled unintelligible words gasped out of parched lips. Pale slim fingers grabbed at the blankets and sheets in desperation as his legs kicked an invisible attacker. He stilled for several long seconds, panting small clouds of warm air into the room, body tense, muscles quivering. Then he arched painfully head thrown back, mouth open in silent screaming. Blood trailed sluggishly from his left nostril, as his body fell back to the bed, limbs thrashing frantically warding off advances.

Uncontrolled magic cracked pitifully around the room in bursts of light, a mournful sight. The bursts of light lingered slightly, comforting the cool room with its bright flashes. As its master curled into himself on the bed, the magic curled around him, trying in vain, to help, to comfort its suffering master. The hours continued to tick by, adding to the encompassing nightmares plaguing Harry. Bruises slowly began to litter the flush skin, unnatural heat burning him from the inside out. He lay trapped in a cycle of pain and misery.

Beyond the window, into the frigid morning, the wind called for blood, the fog its cover. The wispy mass encompassed the mansion in its unyielding embrace. The rooms, cold with drafts of ice air stirred the occupants to burrow deeper into their warm beds as the bitter cold nipped at all exposed flesh. The house elves rushed about lighting fireplaces and preparing breakfast as the cool morning stung the senses into waking. One by one, the occupants left their rooms, bundled in heavy layers, desperately trying to keep their body heat from escaping into the frigid cold.

By 10 AM the majority of the magic folk were gathered in the lukewarm dining room nursing hot tea and cocoa. Voices asked about the odd temperature drop in the mansion, while the students huddled in groups speculating about the recent event. It was half way through the meal when Draco turned to his right, and asked Albus very quietly if he had seen Harry this morning. The Headmaster paused, stroking his beard, and gave a negative response.

"It is highly unusual for him, Albus. He is always the first one here." The Charms Professor mention, brow furrowed in thought. Albus nodded, surveying the room in contemplation.

"If he does not show in ten minutes, please discretely look in on his room. This could just be nothing but I would feel better knowing he simply slept in or lost track of time."

Draco gave a curt nod, turning back to his food. This whispered conversation was not missed by the Potions Master or Deputy Headmistress, both who looked at the Headmaster in question. Catching their look, Albus smiled brightly, and offered them a lemon drop. The noise around the table increased as the temperature went up to a more moderate level. Students began an intense discussion about the upcoming World Cup and who the likely candidates for the game were. The staff and Order members branched off to new class offerings and New Year's planning.

When the ten minutes were up, Draco bid the group farewell and made his way quickly to Harry's bedroom, knocking on the door and calling his name before entering the room. He paused in the doorway, shock overriding the urgency of the situation.

The thick carpet was covered in a thin mist of cold air, swirling around the room. The fireplace held the dying embers battling with the artic cool in vain attempts to warm the room. The single occupant lay flush in a tangle of limbs, sheets and blankets, restricting the movement struggling to be free. Blush colored skin glistened with sweat in low candle light, chapped lips cracked in an open month silent scream. His back arched sporadically as the muscles trembled. Bruises kissed the visible skin of his arms and face. The movement ceased for several moments, the sound of his labored panting echoing off the silent walls. His heart wrenching whimper brought Draco out of his stupor and into action.

The Slytherin drew his wand and gave the emergency signal, a corporal phoenix with a lightening bolt on its chest, for the Order and sent it to Albus with a desperate plea for his help. Racing to the bedside, he began to untangle the man and bed, calling the Gryffindor's name in panic.

Down in the dining hall, the occupants paused in fright as a familiar sight flew into the room and to Dumbledore. The students looked frightened, memories of the war creeping into their minds, while the adults gripped their wands, anxiously waiting for their leader to speak. Once the phoenix dispersed, having delivered its message, the Headmaster addressed the silent room, blue eyes guarded.

"Everyone is to remain here on the first floor, unless I request your presence. This includes the professors and guests. Poppy, if you will follow me. Excuse us." Dumbledore stood gracefully, leading the Mediwitch towards the stairs. Once they reached the first landing, the Headmaster paused, calling out for a house elf.

"Ivy." A 'pop' was heard, followed with the appearance of small blue eyed house elf in a gray dress.

"What can Ivy do for Master Albus?"

"Make sure no one leaves the first floor unless there are accompanied by Master Malfoy or myself. Use whatever means necessary."

"Yes, Master Albus, sir." With a bow the elf popped away.

"Albus?" Poppy asked as they continued their way to Harry's room.

"One of them is bound to think of who was missing and try to get to him. Which might just cause several problems. Most simply involving the invasion of privacy of Mister Potter." Albus explained as they finally made it to the third floor and into the Gryffindor's room where Draco could be seen, holding down flailing arms.

"Help me! He won't wake up and he is hurting himself." Malfoy yelled anxiety and concern lacing his cold voice. The two rushed to the bed side, Poppy scanning the man, Albus holding the kicking legs in place. The bursts of uncontrolled magic increased, interrupting the Mediwitch's concentration. Casting a restriction charm on Harry's limbs, the witch began a series of spells, holding her wand over the arching body. With a slight flick of her wrist the blood stopped dripping from his nose and was cleared from the bed. The Headmaster began questioning Draco on what had happened, waiting impatiently for any information.

"A nightmare." Poppy interrupted the duo, face drawn tight.

"A nightmare?" Draco asked skeptically.

"Yes. He is running a fever, has bruises due to violent movements, but essentially he is simply suffering from a magical induced nightmare. This is nothing we can do at the moment besides give him a fever reducer." She concluded, summoning the potion and administering it with the help of the Slytherin.

"Draco, would you stay and watch over Harry while I take leave with Poppy to fire call St Mungo's?" the Headmaster asked, sadness lacing his voice, eyes watching the struggling body on the bed. Draco nodded.

"And make sure no one enters here."

"Yes, sir."

The two left Draco hovering next to the bed, silver eyes dark with emotion. He turned from the bed several minutes later and lit the fireplace and several candles before moving a lounge chair to the bed side and sitting. The bursts of magic continued to sporadically light the room, and the flush body on the bed stilled, lying limply. Draco watched silently, a deep sorrow eating away at his heart at the sight of the strong wizard's suffering.

Reaching across the bed, the pale blond held Harry's hand in his own, running his thumb softly over the skin, whispering words of comfort. As Harry's pain filled whimpers left parched lips, Draco's eyes watered, never before hearing a sound so heart-breaking.

Harry, trapped still in the binding of his minds bidding, choked out desperate pleas against his assailants. Voice fading with every breath passing between pale pink lips. Soon enough the room was plunged into silence. His body stilled unnaturally under the blankets, chest decompressed and stalled. Draco watched, searching for a sign his companion was still breathing however none came. Jumping from his chair he rushed out the room, searching for Albus and Poppy. Sprinting into the lounge on the bottom floor, face pinched, Draco sought out the Headmaster unsuccessfully, adding to the mounting tension of the mansions occupants.

In his bedroom, Harry took in a deep satisfying breath. Evergreen eyes, bloodshot and bruised opened to the calm deep blue room, dimly lit by the fire and littered candles floating gracefully around the chamber. The emptiness brought the reality of his dreams to his mind, the weight settling heavily on his chest; baring down on the struggling lungs fighting for intakes of air. Ghosts of the past whispered into his ears, words hallow and mocking. Memories of a war bitterly won drug to the forefront of his mind. He gasped, eyes clamped shut as the whispers grew in volume, a final stand against Tom. A question destroying his life.

"_I have them Potter. Tortured them for information. Watched as they bled." _

Harry curled deeper into himself, clutching his head in agony. He lay unaware of the figures rushing to his room.

"_My lovely Potions Master, he was silent through it all, silent even when we severed tendons in his precious hands."_

Poppy ran into the room and directly to the bedside, beginning scans while Draco and the Headmaster stood at the end of the bed, watching the trembling figure whimper and claw at his head.

"_The mudblood though, she screams ever so beautifully when whipped."_

Harry moaned, shaking his head back and forth. Poppy began a series of spells to help calm the young man down to no avail.

"_Weasley fought during our time together, fought until he was writhing on the floor under three crucios."_

Draco began to throw out suggestions as nothing they were doing seemed to help. And in a last ditch effort, he ran out of the room in search of their resident potions master. Who might have something to help the suffering Gryffindor.

"_The youngest one, sweet innocent Ginny, she was exquisite. Her tears, blood and screaming. Oh yes, she was delectable."_

"_I will kill you!" Harry snarled._

"_I agree, one of us will die tonight." Tom stood in front of the 17 year old, wand trained on his spitting image. "I am a merciful man, Potter, so I will give you one chance to save those you love so dearly. Answer one question truthfully and I will let them live. Refuse to answer and they are dead." _

_Harry stared, mind in turmoil. After a long debate he choked out an answer. _

"_Fine." _

"_First good decision, Potter. Now, in your heart, who would you die for? Severus or your friends? Who would you save?" Tom smirked, waiting. _

_Harry stood in conflict. He couldn't choose one or the other. Both were important to him. To the war. He sighed in defeat and murmured the one answer that came first. _

"_Who Potter?" _

"_Snape."_

"_Granted. Now CRUCIO!" _

Harry arched brokenly in the bed, twisting the sheets around him. His mouth opened wide in screams as vocal cords refused to vibrate. He thrashed around the mattress, limbs flailing, and bloodshot eyes open and unseeing as the torture continued to ripple through his pale body. His mind was blanketed in grief as the vision of the duel faded to a painful throb. He was unaware, at the time, of their words being broadcasted throughout Riddle's lair, unaware of Snape's unconsciousness as he lay on the damp dungeon floor, trapped in a cell. Harry was unaware as he threw curses at his adversary; his friends heard every word from their positions in the cold cell across from Snape. As he cast the curse killing his foe, he was unaware of their unforgiving nature. Of a grudge slowly manifesting in those he held so dear. The wound would rot within them and ultimately cause the suffering he feels now, eight years later.

A cool hand stroking his cheek brought his eyes into focus. The room, painfully empty before, was filled with concerned faces. Dumbledore and Poppy stood to his right, mouths questioning; Draco and Severus stood to his left, a mixture of concern and sympathy from them, lips pressed in firm lines. Harry watched as Snape pulled his hand away from his face and asked him a question, but Harry was not focusing on the words falling deafly to his ears or their mounting worry. He stared questioningly at the single silent occupant, who seemed shaken to the core, grey eyes fractured with emotion.

Harry closed his eyes to the reality surrounding him, wondering vaguely what cosmic force he had thoroughly pissed off to have this exquisitely painful life. He curbed the raging emotions swarming the forefront of his brain, wrangling his magic back in control. He breathed in. The smell of his sweat and the light fragrances of his companions. He tasted the bitter ash of the blazing fire and the sweet smoke of the suffocating fog. Swallowing, he began to reassure those around his bed he was fine, or would be in day or two. Spoke softly, barely a whisper, answering their questions and refusing to explain what he was dreaming about. Dumbledore and Poppy were the first to leave with strict instructions to stay in bed for the day. Next was Draco with a promise of a long discussion in their foreseeable future.

Severus however stayed, planting himself in the vacant chair Draco had moved. He did not speak, simply observed Harry in his piecing midnight gaze. He broke the silence just as lunch was to be served down stairs.

"I believe we need to have a discussion." The warm dark chocolate voice stated softly, onyx eyes locking with emerald green. Harry sighed, tiredly, the wounds of the nightmare ravaging his mind still freshly open to attack.

"Please Snape. Not now."

"It is imperative we do this now."

Harry sighed, nodding in defeat and waited for his ex-lover to continue.

"I have been recently informed of my…of Hermione's….Of Granger's infidelity." Snape hesitated at his lover's name, raw anguish calmly controlled. Harry nodded, dulled eyes watching the flames lick at the wood in the fireplace across the room. The tension normally found when they had…discussions was void, leaving an uncomfortable stillness. Both companions had their emotions so tightly locked it place; both accepted the raging numb pooling over their nerves instead of the sharp icy emotions tearing apart their control.

"I have also become aware of what they have done to you. To us."

Harry's eyes flickered briefly to Severus' face, catching the guilt he was unable to hide. The Gryffindor nodded, shifting slightly in his upright position. The Slytherin sighed in defeat, accepting his part in his ex-lover's pain and stood, making his way towards the door, aware of the eyes following him.

"The engagement has been canceled. She will be marrying her lover." Snape continued, pausing at the door, pale thin long fingers grasping the knob. "For what it's worth Harry, I apologize for all the suffering I have caused in our relationship… and after." And then Harry was left alone in his soothing blue room with a blazing fire and shattered spirit.

The thick fog encapsulating the mansion moved on with the bitter black clouds to another victim. Sun peeked through the thin blankets of white, yellow, blue and grey clouds hovering in the pastel azure sky. Ice crusted snow shimmered in the pools of rays, enchanting the world around the old grounds. A lazy winter day fell upon the wizard folk, after the sharp cold of the morning. A fading remembrance of cruelty still alive outside their bubble of holiday cheer.

Twenty-five year old Harry Potter stood gazing out his window, wrapped in a thick blanket; watching snow being to sprinkle the ice, purging its jagged counterpart. He observed the natural blessing and cleansing of the wintry day. With each snow flake dancing in the cool air, his wounds began to heal. Harry Potter was a survivor, and he would survive this.

-=-


End file.
